Green Leaf
by Obliant
Summary: The story takes place in Rivendell. The primary players are three despite the characters listed. If m/m action and drugs are not your thing, move along; you won't like this (However it is so much more). Do also read the authors notes before the story. Your failure to do so is not my fault and your complaints will be dealt with by hearty laughter. Ye have been warned.


Green Leaf

1/2/2013

By:

Me

_**(Do note that there are occurrences in this story that require certain beings to not be themselves so in that event, do not mind that they are talking differently from how the normal character would. I assure you there are no earthly phrases and profanity (to the best of my knowledge). Do your best to read what is written in their voice. That is how the author intended it.)**_

_***Do also note that while the primary pair is that of Elrond and Thorin, the outcome is not as you would expect and it was only a vison seen by another of that company who in turn tries to get some from the ardent dwarf lord. Read it to find out who is now keen on Thorin. There is no point on ruining the surprise.**_

_***Ye it is a long story but take a piss, grab a drink and sandwhich and by all means wash your hands before you make it...read it in segments if you got to.**_

_***Do also note that this is the first installment of a three part tale I wish to tell and, to all of you fanatics out there...If I get the color of the walls wrong or the dimension of something are not just so... please do try and insult me with your high and mighty knowledge, it makes me giggle.**_

_***R/R would be appreciated but not needed. Like it if you want to or forget it, no skin off my rump. I write these for me because this is the kind of story I want to read.**_

Too much drink and merriment led Bofur to open his eyes early in the dark night. He sat up straight after pushing a wayward boot off his chest. He looked down Nori's sleeping frame and hastily shoved his hat, which he had been using for a pillow on top of his messy tresses and he stood up gingerly, groaning. He hiked his trousers up as he stepped over the sprawled frames of his allies. He then looked around and snorted, stifling the outburst of what would have been a hardy laugh as he passed Fili and Kili using each other's bodies as pillows. He wished there was some sort of magic just then that would allow him to imprint the sight on permanent display for him to tease the sleeping pair with when they awoke just shy of sketching it but who would believe it was true?

Kili's head rested on Fili's outstretched arm while Fili's face was close to his brother's neck. His leg draped across Kili's crossed knees. Bofur stared down at them for a moment, looking over them from the light of the dying fire. His smile turned evil and he reached down and slapped the butt of his palm against the bottom of Fili's boot. Fili snorted loudly and brought his hand up, which had been between them, around his brother's body and brought him closer to him, while whispering some female dwarf's name. Kili only continued to sleep with his mouth slightly open. "Poor girl…, he's a clinger…" he thought to himself.

A noise, random and desperate made him turn his head. Balin leaned heavily against the wall, fast asleep. He seemed to be dreaming. His face was pinched and pale and his hands, old and weathered but still strong, gripped the long handle of an ax. Bofur sighed. Next to him was an area void of a body but was obviously belonging to their king. His robes were splayed on the ground along with his other belongings. His eyes turned back to Balin. He obviously took it upon himself to "guard" their king from his own self in this place filled with one cause of Thorin's anxiety. Bofur, still holding the waist of his trousers, gently and carefully turned further and looked for him along the rail of the balcony they decided to camp on. He whispered to Thorin, despite him not being anywhere in sight, "Where have you gone off to now?"

Bofur had relieved the pain in his bladder against one of the stone pillars that lined the walkway and decided to take a small walk to see if he could spot his friend along the way. His face was held in a grim position; he could only think that Thorin was standing in the shadows somewhere, thinking of different ways he could better serve his people. Bofur had seen the dwarf on so many nights wide awake and pacing, constantly taking it upon himself to be the one to be there for all of them, despite his intolerably hard demeanor sometimes. Other times, he was just Thorin, quiet and imposing but still always thinking. He decided that he most likely knew their king more on a personal level then the rest of them, except maybe Balin because he watched him all the time. He knew Thorin in his facial expressions, his body posture, his eyes staring out to nothing in particular but the turmoil behind them telling Bofur that he hurt.

Bofur stepped out to a small covered veranda, similar to the one they were camped on and leaned against the balustrade. His hazel colored, almond shaped eyes looked up at the unnaturally bright moon and quietly thanked it for being so. Rivendell in all its glory was illuminated in soft blue-grey hues that were easy on the eyes. The gold on the banners that swayed slightly in the faint wind were illuminated to look a dark orange. The statues and busts were cast in magnificence to the point that the silvery moon made them look like ghosts stationed around the long covered walkways. The beams showed the adjacent walkway clearly. The longer he looked; he could see the outline of each brick on the ornate floor. He then noticed that the ghostly statues were not the only guardians presiding over the large area.

Armored elves stood still at every cross section and stair well. He looked at them, silently envying their height amongst other things. He wondered why none had been stationed close to them but then answered his own question with conviction that the elf lord probably did not want to put any of his soldiers in danger by having them so close to the inebriated dwarfs who were sure to forget that they were guests in an elfish outpost. He leaned out slightly and looked down at the body of water below, churning slightly and throwing ever rippling reflections of the bright moon back at him, the small islands covered in carefully placed flowers were lovely. Each little flower swayed in the wind as if waving "hello!" to him. He closed his eyes, letting his other senses take in his surroundings.

The sound of the waterfall, not too far away was prominent but it was not so loud as to block out the other sounds of the area. The wind rustled the leaves on the trees and the bows moaned against the pressure. Wind chimes, sounding as if they were made from glass and wood, joined the symphony of the dark that surrounded him. A gustier wind blew and the soothing hum of low voices carried on the breeze. It was like a lullaby. Female voices joined the delicate tune. It was almost as if somewhere deep in the halls or in the surrounding woods, the elves hummed a melody in honor of the night.

He opened his eyes slowly as a smile spread gently across his mouth. He leaned against the ornate pillar and withdrew his pipe. As he stuffed the tobacco inside, his tension that he felt about Thorin was gone. After a moment, wisps of smoke rose from his nostrils. He inhaled again. The bowl of his pipe turned bright and casted an orangey glow over his skin and his eyes raised and looked out once more over the towering buildings. He thought that he could stay here. The elves were not so bad. The peace that overcame him could have been magic and only a temporary fix like the alcohol they all consumed but for now, he would accept it. The tall swaying trees caught his attention. Still the soft song sung from somewhere and still the soft wooden and glass wind chimes dancing in the breeze mesmerized him like the most potent draft. He ran a hand down over his dark mustache and blew a circle of smoke toward the moon as he looked up at it with adoring eyes.

He did not pay attention to how long he had been there; he only knew that his left buttock was starting to hurt. He had not noticed that he had been half sitting on the rail and overlooking the ghostly stone walls and walkways of the adjacent side of the large building. He blinked his dark eyes slowly and then noticed movement. Two armored elves had raised their spears and then lowered themselves to one knee and bowed. He craned his neck and narrowed his eyes at the robed figure walking up a set of stairs. Dressed in white, whoever it was had apparently said something to the guards and one by one, they all stepped away from the walls as if it was practiced and they marched away silently. To where, Bofur did not know, or care. He only cared about whom it was that was walking and then his mind went back to where Thorin may be.

He placed his pipe in his teeth and quietly followed the robed figure on the opposite walkway. He was exaggerating his need to be quiet but he felt it rightly so. He heard somewhere that elves could hear a thatching needle drop from the other side of their great hall. Or was it a feather? He couldn't remember and suddenly forgot why he was even wondering if the fable was true or not. He spotted his king. There, across the way. Alone, as always, and staring off into the direction of the moon. Bofur placed his hands on the thick pillar and peered around it just enough to see that the figure swathed in white had slowed his or her progress but would pass Thorin eventually if he or she did not turn around.

Bofur looked back to Thorin and his eyes softened. He loved his king. Who could not? Even without his kingdom he held his head high and his shoulders squared. He may as well been the king of all Middle Earth because of the lengths he had traveled to get his people where they are now. Bofur smiled and repacked his pipe slowly and with care. He looked down at the small bowl as he packed the green leaf inside "Fresh?" he whispered out loud as he held a small portion of it up to his eyes. He looked at it through the light of the moon but could not decipher its true color.

He brushed this idea away as something that did not need to be worried about as he lit the leaf and leaned back against one of the thick ornate pillars that framed each veranda. Once again, he draped a leg over the balustrade without thinking of it and he stared at his king. He could see him so clearly, almost as if he were only a few steps away and not across a small body of water dotted by small walking bridges and tiny, flower covered islands. Bofurs eyes half closed and the smoke slid like fingers up his cheeks as it escaped his parted lips. He could hear breathing and it wasn't his own. He watched the slow rise and fall of his king's shoulders and chest and realized it was him and that he could hear his breath fill and escape him. His breathing seemed to match the same rhythm as the trees swaying in the slight breeze. His long tresses danced the same step as the leaves of ivy that framed the outcropping that he stood on.

Bofur whispered Thorin's name out loud, so softly that it could have been no louder than the relaxed beat of a butterfly wing. His shoulders then slumped and he lowered the pipe slowly for as soon as the name silenced in the slight breeze, Thorins eyes, as blue as the moon and shining just as bright, raised to look at him. Bofur swallowed and a shiver ran though his body that would not stop. He dared pull his eyes away from Thorin long enough to look down at his shaking hands and the smoldering bowl of his pipe. He tried to act normal then because wasn't it perfectly normal to sit outside and smoke? Wasn't it considered appropriate for a dwarf to worry about his king? Bofur shook himself and put the pipe back in his lips and looked back up and smiled widely, intending to raise his hand in greetings at his king.

He did not think about the small likelihood of Thorin actually hearing his whisper from so far away. The thought didn't dawn on him. All thought actually left him at that moment and his smile faded. Thorin was still looking at him, or in his direction but Bofur had taken his eyes away from the full gaze of his king. Never could his eyes stay raised to that gentle scrutiny. Instead, his eyes focused on the drops of water, "…No…dew?" that dotted his kings long dark hair like jewels upon a flowing ornate robe. They stood out on his beard and mustache as well. The dark hair eloquently framed his now stoic pink lips.

Bofur had forgotten about the robed figure leisurely and fluidly making their way down the walkway and only remembered when Thorin had turned his head slowly, blinking his eyes as he looked at the approaching figure that had stopped and folded his or her long fingered hands. He watched Thorins hair flow over his great shoulders like a waterfall and the braided, jeweled bits fall heavily and sway against the thickness of his neck. He watched with growing concern as Thorins thick brows lowered in a scowl. "You…" His low gravelly voice struck like thunder and lightning at the robed figure. Apparently the figure felt the same rumble for they raised their hands in a universal gesture of peace and surrender.

Thick and low elfish words poured out from under the hood. They sounded of music that is meant to sooth an aggravated listener. Bofur watched Thorins hands tighten like a noose on the rail so hard that he feared the stone would shatter under his thick white knuckles. He stood up and watched in dismay as the shadowy figure lowered his hood, revealing who Bofur already figured it was. He could not remember the elf lord's name but like a hound he could feel Thorins displeasure at the sight of his delicate features.

Try as he may, Bofur could not see an easy and quick way to go to his king and save him from the elf lord who now stepped closer to Thorin with his hands held out at his sides, palms up. He still spoke in elfish. His dark eyes seemed to plead as much as his untranslatable words. Bofur thought for a moment to holler to his kin. Call them to arms. At least the burglar may find an easy and direct route to the king for he was small and crafty but he could not see the hobbit having the power to stop the powerful elf.

So instead he paced back and forth, never taking his eyes off the duo across the way that for some strange reason, possibly elfish magic, seemed far closer than they actually were. He grabbed the rail, stopping his pacing and puffed angrily on his still smoking pipe. He then froze. He froze in shock as he watched Thorin visibly relax. He actually looked away from the elf lord who continued to take small steps toward him, still speaking in elfish but now his words rolled softly like the grassy dunes of the Shire. Thorin bowed his head; his hair drifted forward and framing his kingly face, "I do not understand you." He whispered. Bofur felt those words creep across his skin like fingers. He leaned forward on the rail, gripping it still, waiting to hear the elf's reply.

"You do not need to Thorin." The elf whispered as he walked up behind the shorter being. Bofur watched him look down at the dwarf's stature and his face seemed to harden as if he was looking at something he coveted. He knew the look. He had seen it so many times on his brothers faces as they looked upon gold and gems. The elf lord's arms raised, his white robes came up like great dove wings attached to his skin and his hands lightly traced down the spread of Thorins wide shoulders.

Bofur grunted in shock as his king turned and his hand raised quick to grab the robes on the chest of the elf and push him hard against the ivy covered pillar, knocking him down on to some hidden bench. The elf seemed to have expected this for his expression did not change. Nor did he seem to find Thorins fist coming at him a surprise either. The elf raised his arm and deflected the blow and then he caught Thorin's hand as he tried to strike again. Bofur could hear the angry breathing of his king and he began to pace again like a caged animal wanting to attack. He wanted to yell but his voice seemed to be stuck just inside his throat. Only small noises could be made.

Bofur could now hear his king angrily whispering to the elf in dwarfish; the harsh sound so out of place in the peaceful air. To his surprise, the elf only smiled and simultaneously lowered his face and raised Thorin's hand to kiss his strong knuckles while looking pleased with himself. Bofur stopped short, as did his king. He fell silent as he looked up at the elf lord. His brow went from anger to confusion to shock then what? What was that look on his face? Bofur could not tell. He shifted his weight from boot to boot as Thorin slowly let the elf's robes go. He stepped back and for some reason didn't rip his hand out of the elf's light grip. The elf began to whisper again soothingly.

Bofur could not hear the words, only the feeling they produced. He calmed seeing that Thorin's shoulders lowered as well. Thorin stepped back and looked away from the elf and once again put his hands on the rail; he seemed to be looking down at the water below. His hair slowly slid down, once again framing his face made pale by the light of the moon. Bofur put his pipe back in his lips and inhaled, covering the bowl to block the brief light that may catch the elf's attention. He did not know what the elf's intention was as he once again slowly stepped behind Thorin but whatever it was, Bofur would watch. He would keep an eye on his king and the first sign of trouble would surely bring his voice back so that he could call for help.

His eyes narrowed as he looked on. The elf once again lifted his arms but this time his long fingered hands gently gathered Thorins hair. Bofur watched as Thorin visibly tensed but did not otherwise react. The elf collected that hair that hung forward framing his face and moved it behind his broad shoulders. That hard covetous look returned to the elf's face as his right fingertips slid down Thorin's right braid. The elf picked it up and as he did so, Bofur watched Thorins eyes close. This was not natural and Bofur, fancying himself to be somewhat educated, was aggravated that he could not figure this out.

The elf ran his hand down the braid and bowed his head and shoulders to bring his face closer to the top of Thorin's. As he did so, the crown that wrapped delicately around his brow glinted in the moonlight, as did the metal bead at the end of Thorins braid. Bofur grabbed the bowl of his pipe loosely and lowered it away from his slacking jaw. The elf had placed the long braid back against Thorins upper chest as if it would break if he dropped it then –Bofur could not believe it- slid his fingers up the collar of Thorins robes. He watched Thorins face fall relaxed as the elf put the side of his own face against his king's temple. His hand continued to rise up slowly-and Bofur noted, shakily- along his collar and up over the small exposed portion of Thorins neck.

Thorins head tipped slightly as the elf…"Elrond…yes that is his name…" turned his face slightly and appeared to kiss Thorins temple. "By…the…stars…" Bofur thought. He watched Elrond stand straight up slowly and take his fingers off Thorins neck. They instead moved to trace his now exposed ear. Bofur looked on, jaw still slack, as Thorins mouth opened slightly. His eyes remained closed till Elrond's hand moved back to his neck and wrapped around it. The elf's other hand joined his other in holding Thorin's neck. Bofur thought for one wild moment that Elrond my try to strangle him but then his hands separated. One went up and cupped Thorin's bearded jaw and the other slid down, fingers slowly and shakily circling, as if feeling the hair that covered his throat lightly.

Bofurs eyes opened wide as Elrond's thumb now traced along Thorins mouth. Thorins hands let go of the rail and balled lightly into fists just resting against the stone. Elrond had whispered something. Again, Bofur could not understand it but it was soothing and, he realized, pleading. He watched his king's head nod once and then the elf closed his eyes and slipped his left hand further down and under the collar of Thorins robes. Bofur didn't realize his hands were shaking so badly till he opened them over the rail and the bowl of his pipe, which he held still loose between his thumb and index finger, tapped repeatedly against the stone.

Bofur looked down to his feet and swallowed hard. Never in his life had he seen such a spectacle. He had heard of it certainly but never had seen it and never imagined it from anyone he was so close to. He was ashamed that his face was flush and that the throbbing along his neck had sped up. Normally quick-witted, he could brush something like this off but he was held captive by it. The notion held him as a bloodied battlefield did. He had to look. When he raised his head once more, Elrond was sliding his hand further into Thorins robes so that his fingers appeared to be rubbing the top curves of his king's strong chest. His other hand moved down his neck once more, as if he was raking his fingertips through the hair that crept down from his beard.

Bofur removed his hat from his head and sighed as he moped up the sheen of sweat that appeared across his brow with his sleeve. At this moment, his eyes settled on Thorins face as his head fell back against Elrond's body and his eyes slowly opened. His (Bofur's) heart sank and weighed him down to his knees as his king's eyes, illuminated like magic from the moon, looked directly into his. Thorins lips quivered and he blinked slowly. He then mouthed his (Bofur's) name. Bofur hid his face behind his arm and fell back to sit on his legs. "Oh no…" he whined in a quiet quivering voice, his accent thick with worry.

With curiosity fighting reluctance, he looked up through the wide gaps in the balustrade and watched Elrond pulling one side of Thorins robes down over his shoulder just enough to expose his clavicle and prominent pale trapezoid muscle. Elrond then leaned forward and placed a long spidery hand next to Thorins on the rail. His other hand gathered his (Thorin's) hair and moved it aside. He began to place small kisses along his shoulder and "Mahal…" Bofur thought, licking the taunt skin. The elf breathed heavily through his nose and moaned all the while.

His eyes went back to Thorins face. He was still looking in his area, as if he could see him hiding behind the railing. He closed his mouth, biting his lip as Elrond's love making moved up the side of his neck and then right to his ear. Bofur raise his hat to his mouth and bit it to stop from making any noise. The look that fell across his king's face was that of hardly contained animalistic pleasure. Bofur knew his king's ears were sensitive. He knew because he watched him; always closely watched him. His king would pretend that the cold would not bother his ears but when he thought nobody was watching, he would hold one, sometimes both at the same time, and he would rub them. Sometimes enough so that his eyes would glaze over and he would lick his lips.

Bofur scooted closer to the rail and rested his forehead against it. Thorin had finally closed his eyes again and allowed the elf lord to do whatever it was he was doing to his ear. Elrond's hand was up and caressing Thorins cheek, blocking whatever he was doing with his sleeve. Bofur could not see. Maybe he was biting him or licking or just simply kissing him, maybe all of the aforementioned; it didn't matter really. Whatever the elf lord's mouth was doing was pleasing his king to the point that he moaned gruffly. Elrond's other hand dug deeper into Thorins robes and to the left. It appeared that his fingers circled around his breast.

Bofur whispered "Mahal…" again and wrapped his left hand around the railings beam. His large hazel eyes hardly blinked as he watched Elrond's right hand, which had returned to be on the rail next to Thorins, slide up his fingers and to his wrist. He pulled it back gently, easing Thorin into turning around and facing him. Bofur watched Thorins chest rise and fall heavily as he allowed himself to be moved. He looked up at the elf lord then closed his eyes as his (Elrond's) hand came up and once again caressed his cheek. He took a few steps back, leading Thorin to follow him. He lowered himself apparently on the bench and then ran his hands up Thorin's body.

At that angle, Elrond had to look slightly up at Thorin. Bofur, ignoring all else around him, watched while constantly wetting his lips because of his heavy breathing. He strained to hear what was happening. Elrond appeared to be speaking again, whispering softly, and once again pleading. His large dark eyes looked up at Thorin as if he was some sort of deity. Again, Thorin only nodded once. Bofur's hand ventured to his groin but he only rested it there atop the straining fabric as Elrond quite forcibly opened -which caused Bofur to grunt and Thorin to growl low and menacing- Thorins robes and pull them down just over his shoulders. His hands reached up and brushed his (Thorins) hair out of the way and -Bofur covered his mouth to stop the warranted noises of pleasure from escaping him- pushed his hands hard up Thorins exposed torso.

Bofurs eyes strained because he could not bear to close his eyes too much. His heavy gaze watched his kings head fall back in pleasure as the elf lord ran his hands further up to his neck then back down slowly over his breasts then ribs. He got the idea suddenly that Elrond was fascinated with the light hair that covered Thorins body. Perhaps it was because elves did not seem to have any. His thoughts seemed to be justified as Elrond looked up at Thorin with a pious and someone scared glance than rested his cheek between his breasts. His thin lips opened and his dark eyes closed. His spidery hands dug at the meaty areas inside Thorins robes.

It was then that Elrond turned his face and moved his mouth over Thorins chest and took one hard nipple with his teeth and began to suck greedily on it. Bofur stood up on his knees as Thorin's wide back arched in pleasure. His moan gave way to a hard sigh as he looked down at Elrond. He was now kissing his sternum and working his way up. He frequently paused and kissed as he used one had to hold onto Thorins thick belt to balance himself. When he reached his jaw he went from kissing to rubbing his cheek slowly against Thorin, apparently liking the feel of the course hair there.

Bofur watched with heaving shoulders as the elf lord began to not kiss Thorins face but pull on the short hairs of his beard with his lips. Bofur had never seen an elf's face turn red but Elrond's was and he was starting to shine in the moonlight. Each time he moved Thorins face with his own to pull on some of his beard, Thorin would grunt harder than the last time and Bofur would squeeze himself a bit more. Elrond began to whisper to Thorin between his actions, words that Bofur could still not hear clearly but they obviously pleased his king.

Thorin suddenly raised his hands and grabbed the elf's fair jaw with one hand and the back of his head with the other and pushed his lips hard against the unsuspecting lord's mouth. Bofur could see with an unnatural clarity the moisture that covered Elrond's lips from Thorins tongue. He scrambled to his feet despite his weak legs and still held onto his groin. He leaned heavily against the rail and blinked slowly as Thorin broke away from the crushing kiss despite the clawing protests from Elrond.

Elrond had been digging his hand into Thorin's shoulders and upper back but as he sat down once more, looking at Thorin as if he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, his hands slid back down over his breasts. His fingertips pulled absently at the hair which seemed to please Thorin but then his hands moved lower still. Bofur watched with rapt attention as Elrond's hands lifted the hem of Thorins robes. He could not see then what the elf lords hands were doing but he could only guess. As Elrond did this, Bofur watched with growing pleasure as Thorin, using one hand, undid the golden clasps on the elf's robes.

Bofur could not see well enough due to the layers of fabric but his assumption was right. He knew it. He knew it because of how his king's head fell forward somewhat and his body was forced to move. Elrond was looking down between them, his mouth slightly open. Thorins eyes closed and his head fell back again while his body still shook and swayed in a jerking motion. Bofur squeezed himself tighter, thinking for a moment to untie his trousers and do the same to himself but then he changed his mind; he did not want to miss the pleasure of his king because he was busy pleasing himself.

His eyes went back to Elrond who began to speak again. He could hear him now but could not understand his whispered elfish words. He didn't need to though. It was obvious from his tone that he was talking exotically to the fellow royalty in front of him who he now pleased with his hand. Bofur wiped the sweat of his brow again as he watched Elrond's body moving too; his left shoulder moving unhurriedly. He was obviously moving his hand deliberately slow. He mostly stared up at Thorin as if to watch whatever pleasure he was in. He seemed to be enjoying the little noise that escaped his mouth with each pull.

After only a little while, he could see his king was struggling. That is the way it always was isn't it? A long time between pleasurable actions caused folks to finish sooner. Thorins teeth began to grit and his growling became louder with each slow movement of the elf. Bofur stood straighter as Thorin let go of the rail and ran his fingers down Elrond's face. This seemed to please Elrond a great deal but his moaning was cut short by Thorins hand wrapping around his neck. Bofurs mouth quivered and felt close to finishing himself even though all he did was squeeze himself repeatedly.

Thorin finally spoke but only whispered "Harder…" gruffly. Despite a hand around his neck, Elrond's face remained in awe and did as he was told. Thorins head fell forward and his hand moved from Elrond's neck to his shoulder. He ran his other hand back through his (own) hair. Bofur saw this and was suddenly wishing he was right next to them. He would give anything to see his kings face in the throes of unbridled pleasure. He was closer now. Bofur could hear it in the severity of his moans.

Then, as a crisp wind blew, Thorin buckled into Elrond's embrace. His smaller frame leaned heavily against the elf's bare chest and it looked to Bofur as if he was rubbing himself against him. The thought made Bofur collapse with an intensity between his legs that was the strongest he ever felt. He kept his hand on himself still, feeling the moisture seep into the cotton of his trousers as he watched Thorins body move like a coiling snake in Elrond's arms. Thorin removed his face, which had been against the elf's neck and turned it out so that Bofur could see his face in extreme pleasure.

Thorins eyes opened magically blue and so clear and again, they looked in his direction. Bofur's mouth now opened and he only muttered "Oh..." in a higher pitched accented groan as he finished again. He held himself tightly as somehow he could see Thorins face so clearly again. Sweat made strands of his hair cling to his face. Elrond's hand was clutching at the hair on top of the dwarfs head. Thorins left hand clung to Elrond's open robes as he laid his naked chest against the elf.

Bofur became aware then of the movement of Thorin. He seemed to be touching himself now. He was shaking and his right hand was obviously moving. Elrond's hands were in his hair. After a moment, the elf lifted Thorins face to his and, holding his jaw in both hands, traced his mouth with is tongue…

Thorin ran his hand up the railing as he slowly walked up the stairs. He stared out at the swaying trees and paused for a moment. When he was alone, he held no reserve in allowing pleasure to spread across his strong features. He smiled, pretending he was home. The moonlight glinted slightly off his straight white teeth and thin, pink cupid lips that were so perfectly framed by a trimmed dark beard, peppered lightly with his age. He opened his eyes slightly and relished in the feel of his hair caressing his cheek in the slight breeze. So many nights he had stood on the verandas of Erebor and looked out over the lake town of Dale and listened to the pines creak as they did now here in this place of the elves. He frowned suddenly. At that magical and peaceful time, the elves were still his allies. He even secretly considered them kin.

He looked down at his feet and tried hard to recollect the love he had felt then for his life. He then recalled the laughter of the dwarfish and human children as they played below the gates and carried on the wind from Dale. He thought of banners swaying in that wind and the kites that flew in it. He thought about the calls of vendors selling their goods. The air usually smelled of fire burned from wood and coal, bread and roasted meats. Men and dwarfs would sit along the shoreline on roughhewn docks sagging from years of pedestrian and fisherman use. He smiled, feeling briefly the heat of life that he used to have. Soon, his men and himself would have that again.

He continued up the stairs, noting the elfish sentries on the floors below, opposite him. One looked up at him, followed by his companion. Their fine dark hair falling over their shoulders much as his did. They placed their hands on their weapons but relaxed when they noticed it was one of their unexpected visitors. They nodded; one splayed his hand up and away from him as much as an apology as the permission to go about his walk.

Thorin nodded to them in turn and kept going. He ran his hand still along the rail, absently wondering why no elf sentries were here on this floor or any floor near his group. Perhaps their "_Lord_…" figured the dwarfs, who insisted in lying out on the porch, could take care of themselves. A fresh wave of anger rolled up his neck and consumed his face with a painful heat. As he rounded the corner, staring first out across at the adjacent building, that painful heat doubled as he saw a body sprawled on the ground half on one of the outcroppings.

Thorin rushed forward and got to his knees as soon as he saw the boots and recognized them as Bofur's. "No...No…" he whispered as he gathered his fallen comrade's body against his. He wrapped his hand around Bofur's jaw and whispered his name. "Bofur? Please…" He began to say shakily. In his mind, he thought of ways to get passed the hordes of elves that undoubtedly were here to get at Elrond for not having sentries up here to protect his men. His anger went to himself then and he cradled Bofur to his chest tightly. Everything was happening so fast that he did not notice Bofur's hand gripping his collar. "I should have stayed to watch over you…" he began to say then was shocked as Bofur's fingers touched his mouth.

"Ssh…" Bofur whispered. His eyes traveled up his neck then to his parted lips and his finger gently nestled against the sweet looking pink skin. "Hush now my lord…"

Thorins lowered his brow and whispered hastily "Is the enemy still nearby? Are you armed? Can you run?" He pulled up hard on Bofur.

Bofur groaned as he was lifted against his king, chest to chest. Thorin was on one knee. His other boot was firmly on the ground. Bofur put one hand on Thorins thigh and the other against his spinning head. "Oh…" he said and closed his eyes.

"Bofur you must tell me…Speak to me…" Thorin muttered. He placed his hand on the back of Bofur's head as his face dipped down and rested against his neck. Thorin mostly ignored the minor tickle of facial hair against his skin. "I'm here now…I will get you to safety…" His eyes scanned the open hall around them, searching for their mystery assailant.

Bofur balled up his fist on Thorins thigh, holding the hem of his robe tightly in his hand. His other hand shook, hovering open just far enough away to feel the heat radiating of Thorins neck. He so wanted to touch more. His face against the cool skin was not enough.

"You're burning…" Thorin said, still holding the smaller dwarf's body to his own. His other arm wrapped around Bofurs ribs and readjusted him. He could feel the sweat that covered his face against his neck and his breath, hotter still, pouring down his robes. He placed his hands on Bofurs shoulders and leaned him back slightly to look into his half-closed eyes. He searched those dark almond shaped eyes and saw no fear, "Bofur…" the name growled quietly and menacingly from deep in his throat. "What has happened?" He inclined his head forward but did not remove his eyes from Bofur's carnal gaze.

Bofur licked his lips as he stared up into his eyes "Oh…" he shook his head slowly, enthralled with his kings radiance. He realized that some of Thorins hair stuck to his sweaty cheek. Thorin seemed to notice it as well. He (Thorin) was clenching tightly at his shoulders and then raised one hand and hooked a finger through the strands of hair and pulled it off his flush skin. He shook him slightly, causing Bofur to grab high up on his collar.

"Speak!" he whispered harshly. He could not understand why Bofur looked the way he did. His normal impish eyes, glinting with a fierce passion for life seemed distant, focused and hungry, all in one.

Bofur almost buckled under Thorins scrutiny again but his right arm caught him and held him fast in place. "I'm…I…" He swallowed hard as he raised his hand, so very afraid, and brushed his fingertips down the curve of Thorins chin under his mouth.

"This is not like you…I demand you tell me now what has happened!" Thorin spat.

Bofur licked his lips then growled with embarrassment and a healthy dose of terror and whispered "I saw you…" He clenched at Thorins robes, looking from his mouth to his eyes, pleading with his own "Why do you pretend you did not see me? You looked right at me."

His heavy accent, whispered with the same begging as shown in his eyes, tore at Thorins heart like a starving child but the words made no sense. "Bofur…" his hand ran over his hair, and more gently he asked "Did he hit your head?" His hand slid down to his cheek. He felt genuine concern for his friend. "You're delirious…"

Bofur placed his hand on top of Thorins and turned his face to the palm and kissed him softly "I am not…Nobody hit me…" He turned only his eyes up at the larger dwarf as he chuckled, saying his name. "Thorin…"

Thorin smiled, showing his teeth, "Bofur…what you doing?"

Bofur was hurt that Thorin was not admitting to what plainly happened on the veranda opposite them. He would not give up so easily though. What was that saying about the stubbornness of dwarfs? He looked up at Thorin still and stared into his eyes "I am doing what you wanted me to do…"

Thorins brow furrowed but he kept his smile "What I wanted you to do? I wanted you to kiss my hand?" He ran his thumb over the crest of Bofur's sweaty cheek, "I do not expect such extreme loyalty…at least not at this degree…"

"Why do you still hide what we have done?" Bofur nearly cried the words against his hand "Do not be ashamed my lord, you looked so beautiful…" He clamored closer to the king, once again pushing his chest against Thorins. He wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

Thorin looked down at the ground and saw Bofurs pipe lying nearby. A strange colored leaf, half burned, was scattered around it. He ran his hand over the top of Bofurs head, expecting now that he knew what has gone wrong. "My lord?" He repeated as he pushed Bofur again away slightly. He lifted his hand and opened Bofur's eyes wider: one, then the other. His pupils were as small as the pinpricked stars in the sky. "Since when do you call me this Bofur? And didn't I tell you not to smoke the elves leaf?"

"Let me speak!" Bofur said grabbing the dwarf lord's robes and shaking him. "Do not be ashamed…If…If my mind was half as creative as Dori's I'd speak poetry to you, fit only for a beautiful king as yourself…"

Thorin felt his cheeks flush, "I am nothing special…"

"Oh but you are…I…I... _Love_ you…" Bofur whispered, clinging to Thorin more. He wanted to climb in to his arms and stay there.

"Bofur you gest…where is the punch line for this little joke? I grow tired…It has been a long day for all of us." He said smiling, gently squeezing Bofur's shoulder.

Bofur sighed, and reached up, his hands hovered on either side of Thorins jaw, as if he was holding his face. He licked his lips once more, unaware of how ragged and pale he looked. "I lied…"

"Oh?" Thorin whispered, looking into his hazel eyes.

"I am sorry my king…" he began,

"Your king?" Thorin repeated, not used to these titles from him.

"…when you found me, I was composing poetry…Like Dori does in his spare time…for you…give me a moment to speak it…"

"Bofur…"

"Your hair flows like the Long Lake in the night. It shines as if the moon dances hand and hand with the ebb and flow. Your eyes match the beauty of seeing Erebor in the distance from a trek back home… filled with plenty and sky blue peace…"

"Bofur…" Thorin whispered, feeling his face flush more.

"Your lips…" Bofur shuddered "…are like the springs first rose, so delicate and smooth…" He opened his fingers like a blooming flower.

"Bofur please…"

"…so lovely that once one sees, they can only desire to experience how they taste with their sense of touch…" Bofur illustrated this by placing his fingertip against his own lips and kissing it gently. "…there is no fighting it…"

"Bofur…" Thorin had to take his eyes away from him. Never had anyone ever composed poetry in his honor, let alone _that_ kind of poetry. He closed his eyes as Bofurs hand brushed down his ear. Thorin shuddered and looked back at him.

"That's all I got to…Next thing I knew, you were holding me…" the last two words came out in a breathless gasp. Again he had that pious look in his almond shaped eyes. He wrapped his hands finally around Thorins jaw and held him. He brought his face closer and he felt Thorins body stiffen.

Thorin swallowed and lowered his gaze once again, unable to look at him "Bofur…" he raised his hands and wrapped them around his wrists gently, "That was…charming…but surely…" he closed his eyes as felt Bofur's breath entering his parted lips. "…surely you would say that to a female…not a…another male…" He licked his lips and opened his eyes once more and swore he could taste the sweetness of him. "…a friend…" he added as he saw the crushed look in Bofur's eyes.

Thorins mouth hung open as he watched a tear build up in the corner of his large eyes and spill out over his merry crow's feet. "Bofur…don't…" he whispered, brushing his forefinger down his cheek to collect the moisture.

"I…I don't understand…"

Thorin could see that his pupils were still very small. "Come…let us go back to camp…you need your rest my friend…"

"…you touched him…let him touch you…I'm not good enough for your touch? I've bled for you!" Bofur raised his hand and sobbed slightly into his gloved palm while still looking into Thorins eyes.

"What?"

Bofur shrunk back seeing the storm of anger clouding Thorins gaze. His single word struck him like a swing of his axe.

"Who did I touch Bofur?" he spat. "Mahal grant me this one instance that he whispers the name of one of our kin or even the Halfling's name" he prayed in his mind. The last request sent a small thrill up his spine that clashed horribly with the issue at hand but he pushed it down with the ferocity in which he usually reserved for killing blows. "Who touched me?" he growled louder but not loud enough to wake all in the nearby area.

Bofur backed away from him till his rear hit the pillar. He held up his hands as Thorin stood up fluidly "I made a mistake…ignore me…" He gasped as in two long steps, long for a dwarf, Thorin bore down on him and grabbed him by the coat and hauled him to his feet. "Thorin please…I am not myself…"

Thorin shook him "Don't give me words I want to hear to try to scurry out form this net you've thrown down on us…Tell me!"

Bofur sobbed and his lips quivered. Tears leaked from his eyes like blood droplets from a fresh cut. That was what Thorins anger towards him felt like; a fresh cut done slow and deep by a sharp blade. "Please don't embarrass me further Thorin…" he whispered.

"Tell me…" Thorin said, getting near to his face, but there was no passion in his closeness "Tell me the words I know you will say…tell me it was that pointy-eared giant who runs this gods-forsaken mockery of a fortress…"

Bofur hung his head and sobbed again. Thorin let him go and stared at him as if he were all the evil in his own personal world made manifest into a mortal body. "When did this supposedly take place Bofur?" He fought to keep his words steady.

Bofur's head was spinning. He longed now to only sit and sleep and to once again to be near to his king and not hanging over the sharp edge of his blade. There was no point in trying to delay or hide anymore. What's said is said. He had let the dragon out of the cave and now he had to control it. Quietly he said "Just before you found me…I don't know how long I've been here."

Thorin believed him but that did not slake his anger. "I bedded down with the rest of you when we went…" He pointed his finger at his chest as he stepped back from him. "…I could not sleep…" he jabbed his own chest as he spoke those words.

"Thorin you were not there on your bedding…I really thought it was you…" Bofur said, holding out his hands to his friend and king in a supplicant manner.

"Enough!" Thorin said, swiping his hand through the air. He stepped closer to Bofur again, who stared back at him as if he was going to be sick or was suffering the collapse of his heart. He breathed heavily and fell silent. Thorin continued "I was down by the waterfall…" He pointed a thick finger in that direction "… thinking of ways to better serve my people…not ones that come up with scandalous ideas!"

Bofur let his head fall forward as Thorin turned away from him and held his hands over his face. His (Bofur's) tears were slowing, there was no time for them now, but the real ache had yet to show its thorny crown, he was sure of that. He watched Thorin bend and pick up his hat and pipe. They were roughly shoved into his chest and his eyes threatened to spill over again. Thorin was looking at him with an unreadable expression, "…but oh…he still looks like a deity in the flesh…" Bofur thought.

Thorin grabbed the reins on his anger and muttered "I told you…all of you…" He pointed his finger at him and stepped closer, "Not to smoke the elf's leaf…it is makes you see false things…"

Bofur didn't bother to try to tell him that he didn't know how he got it in his pouch. No doubt it was a trick of Nori, who always tried to win one over on his pranks. Instead he concentrated on the smell of Thorin. Was it his anger that made his sent much more noticeable or was it the leaf giving him almost supernatural powers? He looked up at him as he twisted his hat out of shape from his frayed nerves.

Thorin looked down at him, his eyes were still nowhere back to normal and they were now bloodshot but still they held that look; that look that Thorin knew but had not experienced in a long time. It was the crazed and heated look that filled the eyes of blossoming youth in the throes of passion. He pointed his finger again, gesturing to his eyes and he whispered "This is not _My _Bofur. Where is _My_ Dwarf?"

Bofur stepped toward him submissively and looked up still. Thorin stood as motionless as a statue as Bofur raised his hand and held his shoulder. He looked him in the eyes as he stood on the balls of his feet and pressed a kiss against his soft cheek. Still, the only thing that moved on Thorin was his hair and the slow rise and fall of his chest. Being so close to Thorins face again caused a sting in Bofurs eyes as he felt he had no more tears to cry. He stood further up on the balls of his feet and pressed his lips against Thorin's mouth out of desperation.

Thorin did not react. How could he? He was far too shocked.

Bofur kissed him again; he was sure he felt Thorin lower his head to him and maybe his slightly open mouth did move. The wetness from the inside of his lips coated Bofurs as he pulled/ kissed on his lips again and again. He noticed that Thorins hand, which had still been held as if he was pointing when he first pressed his mouth on him, was now open with his fingers spread wide. Bofur whispered against his mouth "I am still your Bofur…just remember that…now…when you need pleasing…it…" he rubbed his lips against Thorins, then he spoke "…doesn't have to be by your own hand…I am here for you and all I am wanting is to please you…" He could have sworn that Thorins eyes were softly closed but as he pulled away, there were open and staring at him hard from under a furrowed brow.

Thorins mind spun out of control. The hair stood up on his arms under his heavy robes and his pubic area thrummed with a blue heat, blue like his eyes, the hottest heat and it must have shown in his gaze because Bofur nervously smiled at him. Far too many instances in his life caused him not to show his feelings on his face. He used that skill now. "Don't…" he said with a slight snarl "…ever…do that… again…" He watched Bofurs eyes grow large but then he hung his head and nodded.

Bofur jumped as Thorin stormed past him and said "Let's go…now." But Bofur could only sway slightly in place. His head thrummed louder than Thorins heavy foot falls. He took two steps, still twisting his hat in his hands with his pipe somewhere within it and then he fell to his knees and groaned, holding his head.

Thorin turned at the clattering sound behind him and saw Bofur on his knees with his hat and pipe sliding to a halt. One hand landed on the stone as the other was placed against his forehead. His first instinct was to keep walking. He was mad a Bofur right now, or perhaps more accurately, mad at himself for how Bofur made him feel and all he wanted to do was run. He watched him struggle to get to his feet then bit the axe and walked back to him.

Bofur grunted as Thorins hands touched him. He figured he would only rip him roughly to his feet again, a trait he was unaware of with Thorin; that he was strong as ten oxen. He did just as he figured, ripped him to a standing position "On your boots…" he said softly in his ear. Bofur turned his head to look at him. He sighed as he looked at his face in the moon light, pale as snow on mountain peaks, and framed with a dark nights veil. He was relieved and yet unsure of why Thorin spoke so soft and fell back in the process, right into his kings strong arms.

Thorin groaned a bit but bent, using Bofur's falling momentum and picked him up in his arms easily, as if he was carrying a baby. He looked down at Bofur as he started to walk. Bofurs dark eyes looked up at him sadly. His fingers played with his own scarf. "Do not look at me like that Bofur please…" he muttered. It pulled at his heart strings. He should not have been so angry with him. He was clearly not himself.

Bofur dared reach up and touch Thorin's bearded jaw "You only reacted like that because you were afraid…I forgive you…"

Thorin looked at him with a furrowed brow again as they went up a small flight of stairs, "Does that leaf have no end to its ability? You now read my mind?"

"I've been reading your _eyes_ for a long time." Bofur whispered as he wrapped an arm around Thorins neck and pulled his face against it.

Thorins eyes opened wide and a small noise of shock escaped his parted lips. Bofurs tongue and lips were working magic on his neck, causing wave after wave of heat to sear his skin. Thorin nearly lost him out of his arms but held him fast, readjusting him. Bofur did not stop though, he was moaning against his skin with each stroke of his tongue and kiss of his lips. "Please…" Thorin thought desperately "…not my ears"

Bofur was lost to his senses, truly unaware of what he was doing. He only had it in his mind to taste Thorin and to please him in the process. He brought his hand up and stroked one of the thick braids in his (Thorins) hair then put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth. He raised that hand then and once again messaged Thorins ear under his thick cascading hair.

Thorin groaned and walked faster. It took all he had not to put the dwarf back on his feet and push him against the stone wall. Thorin could only think at that moment of forcing Bofurs arms above his head with one hand and squeezing his neck with the other while kissing him like he would a man's whore. But he had never kissed a man's whore. It had been ages since he kissed anyone.

Bofur let go of his ear and moved his hand to the nap of Thorins neck and pulled his hair.

"Bofur…" he whispered softly and raggedly.

"Thorin please…oh please…" Bofur wriggled in his arms. Unaware that Thorin was jogging with him quickly reaching the camp they had made.

"Stop now…" Thorin whispered but could not help look down at Bofurs begging lips.

"One kiss that is all I ask for." His shudder was thick with his accent.

Thorin looked at his eyes, slowing almost to a stop. Bofur moved his hand and slid it up and down his face slowly. He moistened his own mouth. "I do want to…" he thought, looking at the beautifully desperate look Bofur was offering him "…But I cannot, I am…"

Bofur ran his hand over Thorins lips, feeling the smooth moisture just under his soft beard, "Don't be afraid…no one has to know…" He leaned up, pulling Thorins face to him and hovered there. "Kiss me." He pecked Thorins soft open lips. He groaned for as he pulled away, Thorins lip stuck to his but still, Thorin did not move to kiss him back.

He almost did though. Bofurs lips were so soft and his breath tasted sweet like wine. His skin and clothes smelled of smoke and spice; smells of grass and summer trees as well. Thorin wanted to badly. He wanted to stroke his cheek as he did so, maybe gently pull on the hair that framed his mouth but then a voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind. "He would not want this if he had not smoked that leaf…"

Bofur thought the soft look in Thorins eyes would stay. He thought if he kept kissing him, he would eventually give in to his obvious wants and kiss him back and perhaps more but then that. But then that loving mist left his eyes and to Bofur, he looked sad briefly before once again becoming emotionless, bordering on angry.

"We're going back to camp…that leaf has got you addled, you…" He adjusted Bofur as he began to quickly walk again. He felt his face flush as his voice cracked slightly "…you will not remember this at first light."

"No…No that is not true!" Bofur complained and struggled in his arms but Thorin held him harder, almost hard enough to take his breath away. He could no longer move aside from kicking his legs which he had no strength to do. "Please…just put me down…I will show you it will last" He begged. He was unaware of the last flight of stairs they took and how they were now only ten or so feet from the rest of the sleeping dwarfs and Bilbo. "Please!" he said loudly.

"That's enough!" Thorin said just as loud, causing Bofur to shrink in his arms. His heart cracked further at that moment but it had to be done. Bofur was ill and not really like this at all.

Kili and Fili sat up as one and stared at their uncle holding a slack Bofur.

"You two, take him." Thorin said and was grateful that they were up at once, running to their uncle's aid. "Careful…Just get him back to his things and keep him there." He said as they relieved him of his burden.

At the same time Balin rose to his feet and Bombur quite literally bounced. His legs and arms shot up in the air as if Thorins words were like a battering ram in his sleeping mind.

Thorin saw the Halflings small curly head come up, disheveled, like a moon over the landscape of Bomburs great form. He could feel Balins concerned gaze bearing down on him. He looked at him and how he was patting his brother's bald head. Dwalin was sitting up and growling, holding a blade in each hand "It's alright lad…" Balin was saying to his younger brother but his eyes were on Thorin.

Thorin put his eyes back on Bofur who was getting carried away by the two young dwarfs. He was looking at Fili to which he then ran the back of his finger down the left side of his face "Oh hello…" There was a large smile on his face. Thorin felt a twinge of pain. His leaf addled mind was not just on one man then. He walked further into the group, aware of whom was just now waking and who was looking at him or Bofur or Dori crawling over Gloin toward the half dead fire with his tea pot.

Bofur allowed them to carry him back to his bedding. He looked at their faces in turn, seeing their uncle in them. "You know…you are both so handsome…" He said and then he thought "Just like your uncle…but he is far more striking like…"

Kili and Fili looked at each other with matching raised brows.

"You're a bit young though…but I am not picky in that way…as long as…" Bofur was saying joyfully till Nori, who had been beside him when they bedded down cut him off,

"What happened to you? Why do you have a look on you like the cattle in rutting season?"

As Bofurs backside was lowered gently on the ground, Kili, Fili and Nori sat around him as if waiting for the story to be told. Bofur looked up and to the left over the now crackling fire Dori created at Thorins broad back and frowned.

Balin and Bifur were at Thorin's side instantly. Thorin ignored at first the slight touch of Balin on his triceps and he looked to Bifur, "Go down the stairs, two floors and there you will find Bofurs…" It hurt to say his name but it did not slow his sentence "…hat and pipe…bring it back and give it to him."

Bifur slapped a fist hard against his chest and went off stealthily.

"And do not smoke what is in that pipe!" Thorin called after him. He shook his head and allowed Balin to lead him back to his bedding with a slight touch on his back.

"What happened down there lad? Balin asked, concerned.

Thorin looked away from him and addressed the now sitting up dwarfs as they all murmured amongst themselves. "I told you all not to touch the elf's leaf…it will make you mad…"

All was silent suddenly around him, they all had given him rapt attention accept Bofur who hung his head and Nori who looked guilty.

"Who had the balls to smoke the green leaf?" Oin asked, having obviously not seen Thorin carrying Bofur into their makeshift camp. He held his trumpet up and swung it around, looking for an answer.

"Here, here!" Gloin said. "That is not a wise move lad's." He said to his fellow dwarfs. There was a lot of nodding and affirmative replies. Obviously there was experience amongst these volunteers.

"It will make you see things it will…" Ori said, having read about it somewhere.

Dori looked down at his tea and sniffed it before sipping a miniscule amount and rolling it around in his cheeks, "Here now…taste this. Does it taste like green leaf?" He held his small cup out to Dwalin who simply rolled his eyes and motioned the cup away with a wave of his hand and a growl.

Thorin turned his head toward Bofur; he was looking at him sadly but turned his eyes away when they made contact. He felt Balins hand on him once more and he was gently tugged down to sit on his bedding. As Thorin lowered himself, he felt eyes on him from another angle. He looked to see where the hard stare was coming from and was surprised and embarrassed that it was the hobbit.

He sat beside Bombur, who was helping himself to some sort of treat from his satchel, with his arms wrapped around his knees. His dark eyes bore into him. To Thorins sleep deprived mind, it looked like jealousy, as if the hobbit thought he committed some sexual act with Bofur and not him. Thorin brushed that thought away though harshly. He wondered if somehow he inhaled some of the noxious fumes without knowing. He looked at the smoking fire warily.

"Lad…you need your rest…" Balin was saying to him. Thorin watched the hobbit lay back down, facing away from him and then he looked to Bofur who's head was back against the stone rail and he appeared to be sleeping with his hat once again back on his head. Kili was standing with his brother next to the rail and they were inspecting the pipe while Bifur watched. He hoped they didn't get any bright ideas.

One by one the dwarfs settled back down. Dwalin took it upon himself to sit by the stairs, as if on watch. Thorin finally lay down and turned his back towards the rest of his company. It wasn't because he thought he was better than them, it was simply because he was afraid of Bofurs…or the Halflings gaze. Memories of Bofurs pleading voice and of his desperate eyes filled Thorins head as the long road to recovery was laid out before him like a funeral route.

He felt Balin cover him over with his fur lined robe and tuck it in. The older dwarf sat beside him against the wall and silently drifted off to sleep with his hand now on Thorins shoulder as if to keep him there. Thorin didn't mind, it would at least stop others…particularly Bofur from climbing under his garments. He feared that but he feared more that he would not stop it and further still, that he would very much enjoy it. At this thought, he gently lowered his hand onto himself.

Quiet snores at first filled the middle night air and Thorin, "Thank Mahal…" was drifting off to sleep as well. In those small dreams before plunging off into the deep, Bofur was holding his hands and kissing his knuckles and the Hobbit held on to Bofur's sleeve but there was someone behind him, someone he could not see but felt their presence so strongly, as if they stared at him as if they were hunting him.

Up in the parapets, directly in line with the small band of dwarfs, Elrond stood with his hand on the rail, looking down at their king as he drifted off to sleep. His dark robes and hair fluttered around him and his kindly face smiled mischievously as he turned and walked back into the shadows of the hall.


End file.
